


Full Circle

by imaginationem



Series: Case by Case [1]
Category: Law and Order, Law and Order: SVU
Genre: Betrayal, CBC Series, Case Fic, Case by Case, F/F, F/M, Family, Forgiveness, Law, M/M, Mentions of Sexual Assault, Multi, Mystery, Original Characters - Freeform, Romance, Sarcasm, lots of snark, moving forward
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-08
Updated: 2015-06-08
Packaged: 2018-04-03 11:28:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4099351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginationem/pseuds/imaginationem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A mother seemingly murdered by her own son. A secret family tradition that will turn your blood to ice. What has the SVU team gotten themselves into? And will this new addition to their team be able to crack the case in time?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Full Circle

**Author's Note:**

> My new journey into writing Fan-Fiction. I've loved SVU for a very long time and had this plot bunny surface. So I created a new detective to help me solve it. There are a few more cases that I may write about depending on how this goes. If you are keen to read more let me know. 
> 
> (FOR PARALALX FANS: The sequel is coming. Its first draft is complete and now I'm editing for continuity. Your patience is loved!)

**_Detective_ **

The bullpen was, to put it mildly, in pure chaos. It was hell week; Spring Break had just finished and with it came a whole flood of reports of rape and assault. Amaro and Rollins were snowed under with the interrogation of a frat boy who was the ringleader of a gang rape at a local community college. Carisi was taking statement from a witness to another assault on a subway two nights previous. That left Fin and Benson to pick up the slack of all the other people swarming the precinct.

Not for the first time that afternoon Benson put her hands to her temples to massage away a thumping headache. They had been swamped for weeks and the caseload wasn’t getting any lighter. For Rollins, Fin and Carisi the extra work meant extra money. But for her and Amaro it just meant more time away from their children. They needed at least an extra pair of hands around if this was going to get any easier. Now, if One Police Plaza would grant her that god-damn new detective request things would be swell . . .

“Excuse me, Seargent?”

Benson looked up and came face to face with a woman. She looked to be in her early thirties with pale blonde hair and soft green eyes. Just under the collar of her business shirt the tip of an intricate looking tattoo was peeking out and there was a heavy cardboard box under her arms.

“Can I help you?” Benson asked.

“Oh sorry, I thought you were expecting me,” the woman replied. She handed over a manila folder. “I’m the new detective that One P-P assigned to your unit. Detective Emma Cabot, from the Bronx Gang Unit.”

If Benson’s jaw could have hit the floor she was sure it would have. Cabot? The name was surely not that popular? Rattled, she beckoned to the detective and led the way into her office, shutting the door firmly behind her. Detective Cabot looked a little wary.

“Usually when a commanding officer pulls you into their office it never ends well,” Cabot said awkwardly. She placed her box down. “I’m sorry; I didn’t know you were unaware of the transfer.”

“No, no,” Benson said hurriedly. “It’s not that at all. I’ve been hounding the bosses for weeks for a new detective. It’s just . . . you wouldn’t happen to be related to Alex Cabot at the DA’s office would you?”

The woman burst into laughter. “Oh God, yes,” she said once she had stopped giggling. “I’m her cousin. Our mothers were sisters. I’m also Bill Sherman’s daughter.”

“Judge Sherman? Well you’ve certainly got the legal gene don’t you?”

Cabot nodded. “Tell me about it,” she sighed. Her face took on a pinched look. “Listen, my name was not leverage to get me here. I either use Sherman or Cabot, either way I’ve got pull but I swear to you I didn’t use it to get here. I worked gang unit for six years and I wanted a change of pace. I want to do some good and I think I can do that here.”

Benson looked at her steadily. Emma was setting her jaw, the way Alex did whenever she was particularly determined to catch a scumbag on cross. They were definitely related. Still . . . with Tucker’s recent visit one could never be too wary about new blood. She did a quick mental calculation and then smiled.

“Welcome aboard Detective Cabot,” she said.

“Call me Emma please,” Emma insisted. “Alex gets called Cabot all the time. It’ll get pretty confusing if we’re in the same room. Trust me.”

“Of course,” Benson said. She glanced out of her office window; the chaos seemed to have died away for now. “Let’s get you introduced to the rest of the team and you can dive straight in.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Benson led the way out into the bullpen and gave a quick whistle to get the team’s attention. They hurried over, Rollins lagging behind as she hung up the phone to whoever she was speaking to.

“Okay guys, One P-P has finally caved and given us an extra body to close some cases,” Benson announced. She gestured to Emma and smiled warmly. “This is Emma Cabot, she comes to us from the Bronx gang unit so play nicely.”

Fin went to speak but Carisi overrode him enthusiastically. “Seriously? That unit is serious business! They only take the best,” he said excitedly. He offered his hand to Emma. “Nice to meet you, I’m Carisi but everyone calls me Sonny. Is Detective Garland stilling running that unit?”

“Sure is,” Emma nodded. “And he’s still a hard-ass but he gets the job done.”

Carisi grinned but winced as Fin hip and shouldered him aside. “Call me Fin,” he greeted. “You happen to be a relation of Alex Cabot?”

“Again yes. We’re cousins but trust me, I’m more fun,” she laughed.

“Fin, I want you to show Emma the ropes ok?” Benson said. “It will get you used to your new title as Seargent. Also this is Amanda Rollins and Nick Amaro. Everyone looks out for each other here,” she said to Emma. “You have our backs and we’ll have yours.”

“Sounds good to me,” Emma said.

A uniformed officer came hurrying up to Benson and handed her a piece of paper. She scanned it quickly and looked up at Fin and Emma.

“Well, your first day is getting off to a flying start,” she told them. “New case in. A rape homicide in Midtown. Get moving.”

 . . .

**_CRIME SCENE. . .  
200 West 56 th Street, MIDTOWN . . ._ **

Emma turned slowly on the spot in the cluttered crime scene, observing the mess before her with a careful eye. There were signs of a struggle, a broken lamp and a shattered wine glass that had spilled red wine all over the floor. Nearby Fin was talking with the crime scene techs, getting some more information.

She moved into the bedroom and her heart stopped for a moment. The victim was laid out on the bed, covered in blood and wearing a robe. Emma looked at her sadly, they could be the same age. Gang land wasn’t generally the bodies of innocents. Gang bangers and hookers mostly. This was a whole new ball game.

“Victim’s name is Belinda Nash,” Fin said as he entered the bedroom. “Landlord found her when he came by to collect the rent this morning.”

“She fought her assailant,” Emma said, collecting herself quickly. She gestured to the victim’s hands. “I wager she got some of our perp under those perfectly manicured nails of hers.”

“Let’s hope so. ME puts time of death at around midnight last night.”

“She was dressed for bed, or a date,” she said softly. “But there no signs of forced entry. She had to know her attacker.”

“Well whoever they are they got covered in her blood. They stabbed her pretty viciously in the chest, stomach and genitals,” Melinda Warner said by way of greeting. “Hey Fin, new partner?”

“Yeah,” Fin said helpfully, still running his eyes over the crime scene.

Emma rolled her eyes and stepped forward. “Emma Cabot, nice to meet you,” she said. “I get the feeling he doesn’t talk much does he?”

Warner smiled. “Melinda. And no he’s not really one for small talk I guess, never has been,” she said. “Something else I can definitely tell you. She wasn’t raped the traditional way. The perp stabbed her there with the knife but I can find no outward evidence of sexual assault. Once I do an autopsy I’ll know more.”

Emma noted that down in her pad. “Thanks,” she said. She hurried after Fin as he left the bedroom. “What’s up?” she asked.

“This is a two bedroom apartment,” Fin said shortly. “So who the hell is the second person that lives here?”

The landlord, who had been huddled over by the wall and still visible shaking, chose this moment to chime in. “Belinda’s son lives with her!” he called. “His name is Quentin; I think he’s a senior at Hudson.”

“So where is he?” Emma pondered.

. . .

**_SQUAD ROOM . . ._ **

“Talk to me guys!” Benson called as Emma and Fin returned.

Emma walked over to her new desk, across from Carisi’s, and shucked her jacket. “Victim is Belinda Nash, forty-eight years old. She works as a medical receptionist for a doctor on the Upper West  Side.”

“She was stabbed thirty times in the chest, stomach and genitals,” Fin added. “This attack was hell personal Liv, this woman definitely pissed somebody off. Her son Quentin is supposedly a senior at Hudson University, we’re getting some unis to bring him in to make the ID.”

“Any ideas yet?”

Emma tilted her head. “Not yet but I would be looking into her love life. There was no husband or boyfriend that we could find out about but I’m guessing an attractive woman like that wouldn’t be single. Especially with her son grown up and mostly living out of home.”

“How do you figure that?” Benson asked. She was keen to see what Emma’s skills were like for herself.

“I took a peek around his room quickly before we left. It looks to me like he uses the place to sleep and he’s not there often. A few clothes on the floor and the bed is neatly made but there are no personal touches on the room, no posters on the walls and no magazines or DVD’s. My guess is he either stays with friends a lot or he comes home to sleep and is gone the next day.”

“Okay,” Benson said, slightly impressed. “Talk to the son. Does she have any other living relatives?”

“Yeah,” Fin summarized. “She has a brother that lives in Brooklyn, we called him and he’s on his way here.”

“Detective Tutuola?”

“What?”

The uniformed officer jumped as though burned by Fin’s snappish tongue. “We went to Hudson to get Quentin Nash. He’s not there sir, he’s missed his classes and his friend’s haven’t seen him for a few days.”

“Looks like we have another person to add to our suspect list,” Benson sighed. “I’ll get Carisi and Rollins looking for the kid. Amaro!” she called. “You and I are due in court in thirty minutes, let’s go, go, go.”

Fin turned to Emma with a grim look on his face. “Why do I get the feeling that this case is going to be a pain in our ass?”

. . .

Levi James, the victim’s brother, looked exhausted in Emma’s opinion. He yawned widely and then mumbled an apology.

“Sorry about that,” he said hoarsely. “I’m a surgery assistant at Brooklyn General and worked a graveyard shift. I only got off a couple of hours ago. This is still such a shock to me . . .”

“We completely understand Mr James,” Fin said gently, leading James to a seat on the couch. “We’re very sorry for your loss.”

“Bel was just so charming. To everyone,” James groaned despondently, rubbing at his eyes. “Who could have done this to her?”

“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” Emma assured him. “Now, did Belinda have any enemies? Anyone that she mentioned having problems with? Maybe in her love life or at work . . .”

“No, nothing like that at all,” James insisted. “She didn’t date seriously. Her husband died a decade ago, car accident. But Belinda wasn’t interested in being tied down again until she was certain Quentin could look out for himself.”

“What was her relationship like with Quentin?”

“She loved that boy, deep in her heart she loved him,” James explained, sinking back against the cushions. “He was only thirteen when Bob died. He was there for her and she was there for him.”

“Any problems at all?” Fin asked.

“Belinda could be a bit overprotective but what mother isn’t protective of their child? Why are you asking these questions? Shouldn’t you be looking for Belinda’s killer!?”

“We are Mr. James, that I can assure you of. These questions will help, I promise,” Emma insisted. She leaned forward and looked him dead in the eye. “We can’t find your nephew on campus and he wasn’t at home when your sister was found this morning. We need to find him so we can tell him about his mother’s death.”

“You think Quentin is involved?” James gasped. “No. _No!_ Not a chance in hell is Quentin a killer!”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You may as well have!” James shouted, leaping to his feet. “You’re very suspicious of him, I can hear it in your voice!”

“Please . . .”

“Sir sit down please. That wasn’t my partner’s intention,” Fin placated, holding up a hand. “Look man, we’re trying to find out who killed your sister. Your nephew might know something and he’s in danger if he does. The killer might go after him next to stay out of prison.”

James sank down again, tears falling from his eyes. “Of course, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he apologized. “Quentin hangs out at the Natural History museum a lot; it’s one of his favourite places. It actually inspired him to study history at Hudson.”

. . .

**_The Natural History Museum . . ._ **

Fin eyed his new partner out the corner of his eye. So far he liked her. She had a sharp tongue and a wicked sense of humour, he liked a cop who could have a laugh. But Emma Cabot was a strange sort of detective. Almost like she cared a little too much about each particular case.

“Can I get you a picture partner?” Emma teased, leading the way through the museum. The curator had pointed them in the direction of library. “You’ve been staring at me ever since we left the squad room.”

“Just realised why you and Alex are family and why you two are so similar,” Fin said easily. “You’re both sweeter than pie to every single victim or witness.”

Emma raised her eyebrows at him. “I sure as hell hope it was raspberry pie because we all know that is the best flavour,” she teased lightly. “So what do you think? Think the son might be good for it?”

“It better be a hell of a motive for a son to want to kill his mother,” he replied. “I’ve seen some messed up shit in this unit.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

Fin took her elbow, bringing her up short in her step. “Look kid, I’m your partner. I’m here to show you the ropes but not for long. You’ll see some messed up shit during your time here, you’ll see stuff you’ll want to stop but can’t. Just make sure you got yourself a support network.”

She nodded gently. “I do. I will.”

Fin just exhaled and then gestured forward, letting Emma precede him into the room. The library was empty save for a gangly young man huddled in a small reading nook, his nose pressed into a heavy and dusty looking book. He had a mop of curly blonde hair and a spattering of freckles on his nose.

“Quentin Nash?” Emma called. When he looked up she flashed her badge at him. “I’m Detective Cabot, this is Detective Tutuola. We’d like to ask you to come with us.”

Quentin’s eyes widened. “What do the police want with me?” he asked, his voice quavering.

Fin raised his eyebrows. The boy was acting very strangely. “We need to talk down at the station. Something happened to your mother.”

The boy nodded and got to his feet very quickly, his heavy jacket falling open to reveal his grey shirt that was covered in blood spatter. Fin took a step forward and gripped Quentin by the shoulder firmly.

“Woah, woah!”

Emma made eye contact with Quentin. “Quentin, look at me. Whose blood is that?” she asked gently, a worried look on her face.

Quentin looked down at his shirt, made a soft noise of surprise and looked back up at Fin and Emma. In the next few seconds he had swayed on his feet, his eyes rolled back into his head and he had dropped in a dead faint. It was only Emma’s quick movement that stopped him from hitting the floor.

“Call a bus!” she implored. “Quentin? Quentin can you hear me?”

. . .

**_SQUAD ROOM  . . ._ **

Emma leaned against the wall, observing Quentin as he sat in the interrogation room. They had taken him to the hospital after he’d collapsed and once the nurses had released him, citing exhaustion and shock they’d returned him to precinct. Even once he had come to Quentin Nash hadn’t said a single word in his defence or otherwise.

Fin had confiscated the bloody clothes and sent them to the lab with a rush on the DNA but Emma didn’t doubt what they would find. Belinda Nash’s blood was likely to be all over that boy’s shirt. It was just a question of how it got there. Emma tilted her head, concern written all over her face. The boy was an enigma. He seemed innocent enough for his age, almost naïve but there was something in his eyes at the moment that she couldn’t quite place. A dead look.

Her mobile buzzed against her leg and she sneaked a peek. A smile spread across her face.

 **Sender:** Alex Cabot  
**Message:** You’re at SVU? When did that happen? I’ll call when I finish. Way to leave me out of the loop. A x

Emma shook her head and grinned.  Her cousin hated being the last one to hear about important news or juicy gossip. She glanced over her shoulder just as Benson, Fin and some guy that Emma had yet to meet walked through the door.

“Ah there you are,” Benson said. “There’s someone else I’d like you to meet. Emma Cabot this is our ADA, Rafael Barba. Barba, this is Emma Cabot our new addition.”

Barba was smooth from top to toe in Emma’s opinion. He was dressed immaculately, not a hair out of place and not a crease in his suit. She imagined that when he spoke he would be just as articulate. When they shook hands she noted how warm his grip was.

“I’ve heard good things,” Barba said simply. He ran his eyes up and down. “Definitely a relation of ADA Cabot’s. That blonde hair is very distinct. Tell me what we’re looking at here.”

 _Well I was right,_ Emma thought simply. “Quentin Nash. He’s our victim’s son. Fin and I picked him up at the library at the National History museum. His shirt was covered in blood as where his pants. He collapsed when we questioned how he got the blood on his shirt.”

“Motive for the murder?” Barba demanded, snapping his fingers.

“Unhappy home. Probably disagreed with mummy dearest on a few issues that we’re unaware of at this time,” Emma said shortly. His demeanor irked her. “As for the sexual component we’re still investigating.”

“We’ve rushed the DNA test on the blood on Quentin’s shirt,” Fin interrupted. “My hunch though? It’s gonna be hers. We just got to connect the dots here.”

“Do it. Call me when you have something I can work with.”

With that Barba was gone, briefcase in hand and the door snapping shut in his wake. Emma’s eyebrows shot upwards into her hair line and she stared at the spot where the brash and rude ADA had just been standing.

“Is he always like that?” she asked.

Benson nodded, a look of long suffering on her face. “Barba is Barba. You learn to love him after a while,” she said. She eyed the teenager in interrogation. “Look the kid needs a friend right now. Fin I’d recommend you take that role. If he did murder his mother he’s not going to connect with Emma.”

“Sounds like the go.”

Fin and Emma entered the interrogation room, the latter choosing to hang back against the wall, partially hidden in the shadow so she could possibly throw Quentin off track. 

He lifted his head and met Fin’s stare warily.

“So Quentin, you feeling up to talking?” Fin asked gently.

“I guess,” Quentin shrugged. He rubbed a hand over his face and looked warily over at Emma. “She always such a ray of sunshine?” he asked.

“Don’t worry about her. Eyes here man, she’s just here to learn a few things about interrogation,” Fin said.

Emma scoffed internally and if looks could kill she would have had Fin in a pile of ashes at her feet. But she kept her mouth shut and lucky she did because the following conversation then flowed as though Quentin couldn’t stop himself.

“I didn’t kill my mother,” Quentin insisted before Fin had the chance to speak. “I woke up this morning and I was lying on the floor covered in blood. So I booked it outta there quick smart. I didn’t want whoever had killed Mum to get me too!”

“Well according to the hospital your blood alcohol limit was three times the legal limit. You’re not twenty one for at least another month and a half,” Emma said. “And let me guess you don’t remember a thing – here’s a tip for the trade. If you can’t walk after a certain number of drinks that’s a good time to stop.”

Quentin glared at her. “Some of us have a reason to drink,” he said hoarsely. “I may be a cheap drunk but I swear to god I didn’t kill my mother.”

“I believe you,” Fin interrupted before Emma could say anything. “Now, your mother was also sexually assaulted. Does she have a boyfriend or a male friend to whom she was particularly close?”

“That lowlife raped my mother too?” he asked, disbelief colouring his voice. Then his eyes widened. “Oh. .. No way! You think I . . . you think _I_ raped and murdered my own mother?”

“Unless you have a different version of how things happened?” Emma said slowly. “Look Quentin . . .”

“No! I have done nothing wrong! Her blood is on my shirt because whoever murdered her got the blood smeared all over me. My mother has done a lot of things to me but I would not rape or kill her!”

 

**_To Be Continued . . ._ **

 


End file.
